


How Can I Relate To Someone Who Doesn't Speak?

by SOMETHINREAL



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, brian isn't okay, jae is dead, this is really sad i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 10:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14590767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMETHINREAL/pseuds/SOMETHINREAL
Summary: sundays are always quiet. but not today.(alternatively: i was in a depressive episode  and needed to get my feelings out somehow so i killed off jae).





	How Can I Relate To Someone Who Doesn't Speak?

**Author's Note:**

> this doesn't even make sense and there isn't a proper ending so if you don't even want to bother with this i don't blame you. also sounds play an important part in this but i'm not even sure why  
> ft it being jae's birthday and brian not being as okay as he thinks he is

Brian’s apartment is cold and quiet. There’s a pile of clothes in the corner of his bedroom, the left side of his bed is empty. It’s 12:57 pm, he’s sitting in bed staring at the shag carpet he’d bought at IKEA when he was first moving. It’s a Sunday. His apartment is always quiet on Sunday. But it’s not today. He can hear the _thrum thrum thrum_ of a truck’s engine outside his window.

It’s the middle of September, the fifteenth (as the reminder in his phone _ding ding dinged_ as soon as he’d woken up), the window is open, a bird’s talons _tap tap tap_ at the metal railing of his balcony, in search of food, of water, of shelter from the rain that’s about to start. Trying to live. He doesn’t look out straight away, goes into the bathroom to take a leak, stares his haggard reflection in the eyes, hollow, sickly, tired. His bare feet _pat pat pat_ against the hardwood.

He doesn’t look at all. He ignores the rumble for now, pours himself a bowl of cereal without milk; the froot loops go _clink clink clink_ against the ceramic. Some spill over, but he doesn’t care to clean them up. _Orange, red, green, orange, blue, green, red_. He flicks one with his middle finger. It ricochets off of the vase of wilted flowers. He can hardly manage one bite before he’s full, or sick of eating, or just not in the mood, because cereal without milk reminds him of someone he doesn’t want to ever forget but he doesn’t want to remember like this, by dry cereal that tastes like too much sugar but just enough Jae.

His spoon clatters against the bowl when he drops it, the _knock knock knock_ at his door startling him. He doesn’t want to answer it. He hasn’t showered in days. He hasn’t encountered another person in weeks. He wants to be alone. But the _knock knock knock_ comes again, and it’s so loud in his brain that he just wants it to stop, so Brian opens it, even though he looks and feels and probably smells like shit.

“Hi!”

 _HiHiHi_. The word is caught in Brian’s throat.

“I’m your new neighbour.”

 _NewNewNew_. Brian doesn’t want new. He wants old.

“Hello,” he manages to croak. His new neighbour smiles, their teeth are _whitewhitewhite_. Too white, too perfect, Brian craves imperfection.

“I thought I should introduce myself, seeing as I’m moving in next door.” They say their name but Brian’s too in his head to catch it. It makes sense that someone new is moving in. The apartment next to Brian’s has been empty for months.

“Did you know him?” they ask, but Brian’s too busy thinking _emptyemptyempty_ , _newnewnew_ to hear it.

“What?” he asks. His voice cracks from underuse. He hopes they don’t notice.

“The guy that lived beside you before me. Did you know him?”

He wasn’t just a guy. He was more than just another person. “Of course I did,” Brian says. He was Jae. “I found him.” All Brian can see is red. Red, red, _red, red, red_. Pale skin, messy hair, tear stained cheeks; an empty bottle of pills. He remembers having heard them rattle in the passenger’s seat when he’d gone to pick them up a few weeks beforehand. _Rattle rattle rattle._ He’s not sure if it would have been better for him not to have gone at all.

He wasn’t just another person. Brian loved (loves) him.

Their face pales just like Jae’s. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” Brian says, _tap tap tapping_ his knuckles on the door. “So am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](http://twitter.com/hfkyounghyun)


End file.
